The Inevitable Tears

WRITER'S NOTE: Some of you have been asking for some true-life stories from me, so hopefully you will like this one. It's sort of a retro moment for me, I dug up a story I wrote in college about myself and my then on-again, off-again boyfriend.

The sweet smell of love hung in the air around her as she stirred and woke – she smelled it even before she opened her eyes, breathed it in and felt it all through her body, right down to the tips of her toes and the depths of her soul. She could feel him beside her in bed, his warmth radiating toward her, bringing the feeling of comfort and security she had been needing, had been aching for, for so long.

She lazily stretched and rolled over to snuggle against him, wrapping her leg around his, burying her face in his chest, and he responded, half-asleep, by putting one arm around her and pulling her closer. She planted a delicate kiss on his stomach, another on his chest, propping herself up to slowly lean toward his mouth. She felt him waking up, returning her kiss, from soft and gentle to deep and sensual, wrapping his arms around her to pull her slender form on top of him. Their warm, naked bodies molded together comfortable, she had always thought they fit together like they had been made for each other.

He pressed her hips to him, his early morning arousal slid inside of her easily. A low moan escaped her lips, he sighed and breathed her name in her ear. His hands guided her hips, and gently they moved together, rhythmically, each enjoying every precious second of their start to their day. Slowly she arched her back and pressed against him harder, pushing him deep inside of her. They moaned in unison as their bodies moved together.

Their love making culminated and they collapsed into each other’s arms. He held her so close to him she could barely breathe, but she wouldn’t ask for anything less. She lay there until he drifted back off to sleep, then slid out from underneath his limp arm and, careful not to stir him too much, crawled out of bed. She threw on a t-shirt, not bothering with panties or anything else, and went out to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

Sitting on the couch, reading her paper with the cat curled up by her feet and savoring her fist cup of morning coffee, she smiled to herself as she thought of the night before. It had been far too long since the two of them had enjoyed a night together like that, too long since he had held her in his arms and touched her and…she felt a warm rush through her body and considered returning to the bedroom for yet another encore. But no, it was late morning already, and there were things to be done. There was plenty of time for lovemaking, plenty of time for warm, loving kisses and comforting arms around her. She would have to wait.

Reluctantly she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, wishing he would come and join her like the romantic men in the movies and in the novels she sometimes read – but she knew he wouldn’t. He had never liked taking showers together, for reasons she had never understood. She peeled off her shirt and slipped into the steady stream of hot water, enjoying the way it washed over her, wishing she could hold on to that sweet scent of their lovemaking for just a moment longer. As she enjoyed the cleansing streams of water pouring over her she decided that maybe, on second thought, she would go lie beside him for just a little while…

When she returned to the bedroom, a towel wrapped around her wet hair, her naked body exposed to the cool air in the apartment, she saw that she was too late. He was already getting dressed, turning on the television to watch the news before he left. She sighed as she went to the closet to pick out some clothes, slowly dressing in front of him, trying to peak some interest. He wasn’t paying attention, though, and by the time she was into her under things she had given up.

They discussed their plans for the day, her off to classes and then work, him to run errands and meet some friends, and they agreed to meet back at her apartment at the end of the day for dinner. Before she had even finished dressing he had given her a quick kiss and breezed out the door. She sighed, threw herself on the bed to breathe his scent for a few moments before she got up, ready to face the day after the most wonderful night and morning she had spent in a long time. It made things look a little bit brighter that the two of them were back together, and a smile was plastered across her face as she headed out the door.

A pleasant memory, or just a dream, she wasn’t sure which she was experiencing as she opened her eyes, breaking the last threads of the hold sleep had on her. She had been in his arms, slow dancing to some beautiful song…she looked at the clock and saw that it was after eight. She had drifted off to sleep on the couch with her book and he was late. It wasn’t the first time he had been late when they had plans, and she knew she should expect it by now, but she never did. It always came as a surprise, always hurt. Why did she put so much stock in his promises, after all the times they had been broken? Why did she trust him so even after he had given her so many reasons not to? She wished she knew the answers, but she knew she never would. It was a strange power he had held over her since the first time their eyes had met.

She went over to the phone and picked it up – no messages. So he hadn’t even tried to call while she was asleep, he had just blown her off again. Perhaps he was just running late and hadn’t gotten a chance to call, she told herself, trying to be confident, trying to tell herself that something “more important” hadn’t come up. Not so soon after their reconciliation. Not already!

She told herself not to wait around for him, not to let him do that to her again, but it didn’t work. She knew it wouldn’t. Even if she called it something else, she was still waiting, and every minute that passed brought a deeper ache, every minute that passed brought her closer to the inevitable tears. She tried to busy herself, not to sit by the phone or watch the door, not to wait for him to come.

She fixed dinner, enough for two just in case, and sat down to eat. Slowly she lifted the fork to her mouth, barely able to choke down the few bites she forced herself to eat before the plate went into the garbage, and still there was nothing. The emptiness of her little apartment depressed her. She turned the television up in an attempt to drown out the unbearable silence.

At eleven o’clock, she decided to go to bed alone, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Slowly she undressed, slipping a sexy nightgown that had been a gift from him over her head. She would toss and turn in the huge empty bed all night, the endless restless hours would make for a very long day when she woke up in the morning.

She did eventually drift off, though, and she was asleep as he quietly pulled the covers back and crawled in bed beside her. She opened her eyes to see that it was three in the morning. He didn’t even apologize for not showing up, for standing her up yet again.

Instead he wrapped himself around her, pulling her body close to him, asked if she wanted to make love. She hated herself for forgiving herself so easily, hated herself for letting him put her through this again, but the feel of his hands on her body…

She felt her control over the situation, over herself escape with her breath as he kissed her neck, and she turned around to face him. Letting herself melt into his arms she surrendered to his touch…